Dark Meadow
by superfelix
Summary: There are clicking noises and rustling sounds after Daryl's rant in Triggerfinger. Will he go hunting or follow Carol to protect her?


**Title: **Dark Meadow

**Flavor:** The Walking Dead

**Characters: **Carol Peletier & Daryl Dixon

**Rating:** T

**Word Count:** 950

**Synopsis:** There are clicking noises and rustling sounds after Daryl's rant in Triggerfinger. Will he go hunting or follow Carol to protect her?

**A/N 1:**

This is my first The Walking Dead fanfiction. This show raises so many questions. One of the most prominent questions for me is what happened between Daryl's rant and the small smile he gave Carol as he stepped into the farm house at 2 x 09 Triggerfinger?

**Beta:** My wonderful friend Suzanne helped me again with the English and hole finding.

**Disclaimer: **I earn no money from this thing, nor do I profit in any other way from it. Involved persons are only borrowed and always go back to their owner.

**~ Dark Meadow~**

"Yeah," Carol replied after Daryl's rant, and took another breath. She stepped out of the dim camp fire light, turning into the darkness. Carol didn't want Daryl to see her face. He expected welling tears or defensive anger in response to his offensive words. But Carol had no more tears left. She had shed them all during the search for Sophia and she had learned long ago, not to cry during Ed's angry outbursts. Tears and words of disagreement just made things much worse.

She left with drooping shoulders, hoping the walk over the field to the main camp would soothe her. Daryl was right. She wasn't his problem. Carol knew he needed to find his own way back into the group – But he was alone, one man against the world… She rolled her eyes. She hoped Daryl would realize that he was a very important part of the unit.

Fuck, how dared that bitch just leave right in the middle of a good fight? Daryl would never understand women, especially Carol. She irritated him a lot.

He kicked a stone to channel his anger, throwing out sparks. Daryl wasn't done. He had more pent up angry words, but he was slowly grasping that he had already hit her hard. "Shit!" But dealing with such a lack of resistance was new and unfamiliar to him. Something he needed to get used to when, when...

When what? When he got to know Carol better?

"Ha," Daryl snorted. "Hell will freeze over...b'fore that happens," he whispered into the dying fire. But his thoughts didn't leave Carol. _What did that douche bag of a husband do to you? I can get into your face and you take it with no whining?_

His eyebrow lifted, "Respect lady," he growled. Daryl was never good in handling snivelers. He turned to poke the campfire as a clicking noise and rustling reached his ear. Daryl's heartbeat quickened and all his senses focused. He reached for the crossbow and loaded an arrow, peering into the darkness. Walker, animal or was Carol coming back?

_Carol!_ Daryl turned in the direction she had left. He couldn't spot her on the field but outside the circle of the fire light it was as dark as in a monkey's ass. Daryl recalled the image of Carol's slender figure, her waist carrying no knife or gun. She would be unprotected if a walker broke over the fence. So he decided to follow her rather than heading in the direction of the noises. At least they didn't repeat and there were no hungry moans which calmed his panic a bit.

Daryl felt anger well up again as he hurried across the meadow. How could this woman stroll through the night without any protection? But relief spread in his tummy as her washed-out silhouette crossed in front of an old tree. In a few steps he reached her.

"Carol, it's me," Daryl gasped frightened and jumped back. A long branch dashed only inches away from his temple followed by a high scream.

"I...I heard noises and then your steps running right up behind me." Carol caught her breath and dropped the branch. "God, Daryl!"

"Jeez, woman! I tried not to scare you," Daryl reached for the crude weapon. "Sorry, I shoulda said something earlier." Only his agility saved him from another head wound. Daryl sighed. As if it would matter to anyone in the group if his skull was split open. He figured most of his contributions were ignored anyway.

But he was also impressed. Carol had anticipated the danger and prepared for a fight.

"Do you think the rustling came from one of those things?" Carol asked still out of breath, peering into the dark.

"No, only an animal. If it'd been a walker, it'd already smelled us and been right here." Daryl shouldered crossbow. "C'mon, I ain't got all night. I'll take you to your tent."

They walked side by side in silence as the camp lights grew closer and they could spot Glenn's outline as he stood watch on top of the RV.

"Lady, you were smart to swing the branch like a baseball pro. But you should start carrying a knife...or a gun. And don't go anywhere alone."

"Mh."

"I...I can show you how to handle a weapon," Daryl said with a shy smile.

"Yeah, maybe." Carol stepped to her tent and opened to zipper.

Daryl swallowed the 'maybe' and his burgeoning letdown. He was never good at understanding grey areas.

What was Carol waiting for?

He was going to ditch her without a goodnight or nod, but then a slight touch on his arm made him flinch and kept him from leaving.

"I found something in the mud…close to the blossoming Cherokee Roses," Carol paused, recalling what she had done with the beautiful flowers. "Maybe you can use them." She held out three stone arrowheads.

"Oh," Daryl studied Carol's gracious smiling face and then reached for the pre-historic weapons. He was turning them in his hand, feeling the cold and smooth stone with the sharp edges. If he could assemble an arrow with this head, it would pass through a skull like a hot knife through butter.

"I don't know how to attach them, but…" Carol said.

"I'll find out."

"I know." Carol ducked into her tent, brushing again his wrist. "Good night, Daryl. Sleep well."

"Yeah, you too," Daryl replied, and beginning to walk to his camp, his mind focused on the problem of fastening the arrowheads. But those thoughts were wrestling with more disturbing thoughts and feelings. Carol seemed to support and believe in him. That was also something he would need to get used to.

_To be continued..._

**A/N 2:** That's it for now but I'm writing on a sequel at the moment. I hope it will work out the way I see it in my mind.


End file.
